


mine

by raven_bird



Series: Femslash February 2016 [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Books, F/F, First Meetings, Fluff, Meet-Cute, More like Meet-Awkward-And-A-Little-Bit-Angrily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 04:19:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6037807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raven_bird/pseuds/raven_bird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly is close to tearing her hair out when she finally remembers.</p><p>------</p><p>Molly forgets her book at a park and comes back to find a situation that she didn't expect.</p>
            </blockquote>





	mine

**Author's Note:**

> Ayy, femslash february! This is actually the first fic I've ever written for BBC Sherlock -- hopefully I got the characters right.
> 
> Written for this prompt, [found on tumblr](http://gryffindorslupin.tumblr.com/post/118658054984/prompts-based-on-my-life-because-i-am-a-mess):
> 
> 'i forgot my copy of Goblet of Fire on this park bench and when i come back to get it this really hot guy is reading it, but he insists that the book is his and holy shit he’s hot, but i will fight him for the book'
> 
> BUT: changed to female pronouns (obviously) and the book is changed, too.

Molly is close to tearing her hair out when she finally remembers.

 

The park bench. She had only sat there for a moment, not long enough to be memorable, but now that she thinks of it... she did take her book out of her backpack. She remembers the bright sunlight dancing across the print and the flickering shadows of the leaves from above. She remembers setting aside the book to pull out a granola bar. She remembers glancing at her watch and leaving in a hurry to get back to work, gathering all of her things into her arms without bothering to pack them into her bag properly.

 

She remembers being a _fucking idiot_.

 

If it had been any other book, she probably wouldn't care so much. But it was an old favourite -- the same copy that she had owned in grade school. It was one of the most precious things she had in her possession.

 

So, without hesitation, she leaves her apartment, not even bothering to properly lock up the door. The likelihood of the book coming to some awful demise is ever growing in her mind, and she doesn't want to waste any time from rescuing it from whatever horrors it could encounter in the great outdoors.

 

The image of some dog slobbering over the cover, gnawing on the edges of the book, makes her shiver. Hurrying faster now, she doesn't spare any of the people passing by a second glance, as she usually might have. Her book is all that she really cares about.

 

She finally makes it to the border of the park, where the grey, crumbling sidewalk gives way to dirt and grass and wildflowers. Slowing down, she sighs in relief. The bench that Molly had sat on earlier is in sight, and she allows herself to calm down. Unless the book had been stolen -- and really, who would want such a beaten-up old copy -- she will find her copy right there, safe and sound.

 

The bench is occupied by someone else, a dark-haired woman who is bent over some book of her own, apparently immersed in the story. Molly creeps around from behind, not wanting to disturb this woman, and frowns at the bench.

 

There's nothing there.

 

"Uh," Molly says, before she can think better of it.

 

The woman seated looks up, not looking the least bit startled by Molly. She doesn't look as though she's the type of woman who is ever anything but composed. She's gorgeous, too, and Molly finds herself forgetting, for a moment, why she's even in the park. "Can I help you?"

 

Shaking herself, Molly prepares to explain the situation when the woman closes the book she had been reading and focuses her attention on Molly, in an apparent attempt to show interest. That's when Molly notices what book she's reading.

 

Abandoning her half-formed explanation, Molly stutters, "That's... that's mine."

 

The woman tilts her head, her expression not so much as faltering. "I believe it's my copy, actually. A friend lent it to me."

 

Molly blinks. And sits down.

 

"That," she repeats, "Is mine."

 

She swears she can see a spark of something like humour in the other woman's eye, but her tone is as innocent as can be when she speaks. "I think you're mistaken."

 

Molly groans, still not quite believing what she's hearing. "What's your name?"

 

"I'm sorry?"

 

"What's your name?"

 

Not looking as though she wants to answer, the woman says, "Irene Adler."

 

"And your friend's name? The one who lent it to you?"

 

"James," she says, after a pause.

 

"Flip to the first page," Molly tells her, barely restraining a triumphant smile.

 

She knows her book like the back of her hand. Which means she knows about her own name, printed carefully in the front cover. She is suddenly grateful that her ten-year-old-self had taken it upon herself to mark every book this same. It's updated, too, with Molly's latest address and phone number. She has proof, written clearly in her own penmanship, that this book is _hers_.

 

It seems that Irene has guessed as much. Instead of doing as Molly says, she tucks the book into her purse and shrugs. "Listen, I don't know what you're doing --"

 

"Getting my book back!" Molly tells her, practically feeling her mouth fall open at the injustice of it all.

 

"But," Irene continues, "I should really head back home."

 

Irene stands up, adjusting her purse on her shoulder. Molly follows a second later, blocking her way. Next to Irene, she feels small and unnoteworthy, but she'll be damned if she'll let that stop her from getting her book back.

 

Irene looks at her, and... yes, there's definitely the smallest of smiles there.

 

"This shouldn't be _amusing_ to you," Molly says, practically growling.

 

"I promise, it's anything but," Irene responds, but her eyes give her away. She's undeniably enjoying this.

 

"Irene," Molly says, as calmly as she can manage, “Give me my book back."

 

Irene, who had faltered the slightest bit when Molly had said her name, smiles. "I'd rather not."

 

She turns and begins walking down the path towards the street. Molly watches her figure leave, distracted for a moment by the ease with which she walks, the self-assured confidence.

 

Then she catches up. "So you admit it's mine."

 

"I never said that."

 

Molly is nearing a loss for words. This whole situation seems ridiculous, suddenly, and she stares at Irene for a good five seconds, wondering what on earth could be going on in her brain.

 

They reach the end of the path, and Irene opens the door of a car, slides in.

 

Molly resists the urge to dive in after her, grab the purse, and run for it.

 

Instead, she fixes Irene with the fiercest glare she can muster and says, once more, "Give me my book."

 

Irene grins. "Goodbye, Molly. Good luck with finding your book."

 

She's gone before Molly can say another word.

 

It's only later that Molly realizes that she never told Irene her name. The sole explanation that she can think of is this: Irene had seen her name in the front cover, before Molly had even shown up.

 

Molly shakes her head, incensed but unable to help being the slightest bit amused.

 

She doesn't stop thinking about Irene for days.

 

 

 

 

 

A week later, she opens her front door to find her book lying on her doormat, next to a bouquet of delicate pink flowers.

 

She picks them up, in a little bit of shock. Flipping through her book, she stops at the front cover, where her name and address is so carefully printed. Beneath, there is a small note, in handwriting different from her own.

 

_Thanks for the fantastic read!_

_Care to discuss sometime, over coffee?_

_Irene._

_PS: I quite liked the one with the King of Bohemia._

 

Beneath is a phone number.

 

Molly, smiling, programs the number into her phone and sends a text within a minute.

_'Coffee sounds perfect.'_

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment or kudos if you enjoyed!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [lavenderjehan](http://lavenderjehan.tumblr.com)
> 
> PS: The book is not-so-subtly the original Sherlock Holmes stories, with _'the one with the King of Bohemia'_ being 'A Scandal In Bohemia'.
> 
> You can find everything that I've done for femslash february on [my blog](http://lavenderjehan.tumblr.com/tagged/femslash-february).


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